“Sure, thanks.” It would be easier said than done, but then there was little I could do about the situation. Except what I was already doing. Was Dad bothered by this situation at all? “Love you, Mom. Bye.”
“Bye, and let me know if anything else happens,” she said.
“I will.” I ended the call and brought my oatmeal bowl to the sink.
SEVENTEEN
ELI
It was Thanksgiving, and I’d prepared the annual turkey with a box of dressing and scratch mashed potatoes. We had our last game of the regular season tomorrow against U of A. I would ensure we ate enough before the game. I stirred the potatoes in the pot of boiling water, thinking about the last month. It had been crazy with Casey needing help to take down an escaped convict at his boyfriend’s house and the press conference that had taken place afterward. But we’d all taken it in stride, and things were back to normal.
Wren was on his way over, yet despite weekend visits, he’d been distant since the last phone call with his father.
Malik ambled into the main room from the bedrooms. “Dude, it smells so damn good in here.” He stepped toward me and peered into the pot. “I’ll miss having you cook for us on Thanksgiving after you leave this year.”
“I guess I’ll have to teach you how to do it? Or leave you with my recipe?” The potatoes were done. I turned off the burner. “It’s easy, really.”
“Yeah? Okay.” He patted my shoulder. “Teach Tex.”
“Did I hear my name?” Tex strutted into the room, his large frame wrapped in his team sweats. “What are you teaching me?”
“How to cook the turkey next year. Apparently, Malik wants you to do it.” Though if I signed with the Cardinals, I’d still cook for everyone. Unless of course we had a game.
“I can cook a bird. I’ve cooked duck before.” He opened the refrigerator and pulled out a bottled water. “There’s nothing like eating a wild duck you shot yourself.”
I blinked at Tex. “You shoot wild ducks?” He always presented this shit at odd times.
“Yeah, my daddy and I used to go hunting every season. You need to fish all the shot out of it first, though, and that can be a bitch.” With a wry grin, he twisted the cap off his bottle and drank his water.
Malik, slack-jawed, stared at Tex. “Guess you’ll be cooking next year.”
“Damn right.” Bumping Malik’s shoulder with his own, he said, “You’re scary in the kitchen. Remember that time you tried to cook frozen fries in the oven and you turned it on broil instead of bake and almost burned the house down?” He snorted.
“That was sophomore year.” Crossing his arms, Malik shook his head. “I’ve learned a few things since then.”
“Okay, you two. I’ll leave my recipe for Tex.” With a tut, I drained the potatoes into a colander in the sink.
“Hey, on another topic, I heard Casey’s lining himself up with an NFL agent. Maybe he could put in a good word on your behalf,” Malik said.
“Good idea. If I can get him alone this weekend, I’ll do that.” We couldn’t sign with an agent until after our last college game, but we could certainly talk with them, and it was high time I did. A referral was always best.
A knock clapped through the air.
“I got it.” Tex jogged through the room to the front door.
“It’s Wren.” I moved the potatoes to a new pot and pulled our masher from the drawer. If Wren hadn’t called his father yet today, maybe I could help him through it. He should call him. It was a holiday.
“Hey, buddy, come on in.” After a quick side-hug, Tex stepped aside and let Wren into the house.
With a warm smile, Wren strolled toward me with two bottles of red wine in his hands. “This wine is supposed to go perfectly with turkey.” He set it on the kitchen island, gazed at it a moment and turned to me.
Shit, I knew what he was thinking. He remembered what I’d done to him on that counter. Not a day passed that I didn’t do the same thing. “Hey, babe.” I kissed his cheek. “Why don’t you open the wine and let it breathe?”
“My, aren’t you fancy.” Tex cackled and stepped by me. “Should I set the table?”
“Yes.” Having finished the potatoes, I retrieved the turkey, setting it atop the cooktop. “We’ve got about half an hour before I carve this bird.”
“What can I help with?” He removed the foil from the wine bottle and then twisted the corkscrew into the cork.
